“Thank you very much — we’re very happy to be here,” she told the cheering, near-capacity crowd inside the Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Saturday night. “We haven’t played together in a number of years.”
Indeed, Saturday marked the first time in 13 years that Krauss and her Union Station bandmates had stood on a stage in North Texas. (Even as a solo artist, it had still been six years since Krauss had performed here solo, as part of Willie Nelson’s Outlaw Music Festival at Dos Equis Pavilion.)
For some artists, a gap of such length would prove daunting — a barrier to scale and prove relevance anew to a crowd hopeful that the music could still work its magic. Krauss and Union Station — guitarist Ron Block, bassist Barry Bales, touring fiddler Stuart Duncan, dobro master Jerry Douglas and vocalist-guitarist Russell Moore — are gifted with a catalog unbound by fad or fashion, creating the illusion that no time has passed at all.
Moore is the new kid on the block, joining the group earlier this year, alongside the others, all of whom have been performing with Krauss for more than 30 years. If he betrayed any hesitation about slotting into the role held by Dan Tyminski for 33 years, it was not evident Saturday night — his high, rich tenor folded seamlessly into the harmonies that are a hallmark of Krauss and Union Station’s bluegrass, country, folk and pop fusion.
Krauss and Union Station are touring behind Arcadia, its first studio album in 14 years, and pulled about half of the new record’s songs into Saturday’s 110-minute showcase, including the show opening “Looks Like the End of the Road,” which blossomed like some kind of dark flower.
(Krauss also proved to be the evening’s dispenser of wit: “We try to cover many subjects in the songs — work accidents, the paranormal ... we’ll try and work in a chupacabra,” she cracked after “Let Me Touch You for Awhile.”)
The staging was minimal. The six musicians clustered together near the foot of the stage, with an old sign hanging overhead, reminiscent of a small-town movie theater, a small ticket booth just behind them and a large, draped sheet beyond that, where video loops were projected all night.
Most striking was the practiced ease with which these artists conjured sounds of such delicacy and nuance — second only to how respectful and attentive the audience was. It was a Kessler Theater-caliber listening experience amid the cement sprawl of the Toyota Music Factory, a deeply pleasant surprise.
With scarcely more than a nod or a raised hand, Krauss and Union Station moved as a single unit, voices rising and falling along a melodic line, the pungent, quicksilver tang of the dobro slipping between plucked banjo or thrumming bass, Krauss’ exquisite soprano floating above it all.
Time has not diminished the beauty of her voice — Krauss could sing Yelp reviews and make them feel like hymns — and Saturday night, she doled out one showstopper after another, as easy as breathing: “Ghost in This House” into “I Don’t Believe You’ve Met My Baby” was transcendent, “Restless” and “Forget About It” danced along the line between pop and folk, while folding the Foundations’ classic “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You” into “Wish I Still Had You,” from Krauss’ 1990 album I’ve Got That Old Feeling felt like a dazzling magic trick.
The audience got an extra treat Saturday as Douglas was ceded the stage for a brief interlude, performing a pair of songs solo: Paul Simon’s “American Tune” and Chick Corea’s “Spain,” fluidly stitched together as one continuous piece. Before laying hands on his well-loved dobro, Douglas showed off his footwear: “I did today what you do when you come to this town — I went to [M.L.] Leddy’s Boots. I like ‘em.”
With more than 30 songs spread across its time on stage, Alison Krauss and Union Station provided an embarrassment of riches.
From one angle, it was the giddy rush of a reunion — piling up the memories just in case it’s another long stretch of years before their artistry is seen and heard on stage here.
From another angle, Saturday’s performance was simply a peerless collection of artists doing what they do best, conjuring an alchemy so transporting that time almost becomes irrelevant — surrendering yourself to its cascading, enveloping, arresting powers simply never goes out of style.
